Inconcessus
by ChocolateCurlz
Summary: Forbidden. A love story. Disir and Sol, twins. She's the beauty of Slytherin, he's the hero of Gryffindor. Can they overcome years of rivalry and misunderstandings? Or will Potter children and Neo Death Eaters end it for them? TWINCEST, DH SPOILERS
1. Chapter I Blood Divided

AN: Incest. Dirty, smuty incest/twincest. This isn't about the Potter children, though they do come flitting in and out. This is a love story between Houses, between siblings. Just so you know what you're reading.

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_Inconcessus_

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Chapter I

Blood Divided

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Disir Corrigan, seventeen and counting, stepped on board the Hogwarts Express, turning to wave goodbye to her mother. 

"Bye darlings!" She called, beaming proudly. "I'll see the both of you at Christmas!"

The train began to pull away and Disir turned to her brother, who was standing behind her.

Solace, Sol to most, looked down at her, his face impassive. "Shouldn't you be off with your Death Eater buddies?" He asked, his dark eyes unreadable.

Disir's mouth parted into a small, soft smirk. The term Death Eater was almost taboo at Hogwarts, even twenty years after the final defeat of the Dark Lord. The teachers hated the word. Professor Longbottom especially despised the term, launching into a very bitter tirade on the damage they caused and the evil they brought down on the entire British wizarding community. The few students that had dared label themselves as Death Eaters or proudly exclaimed that they believed someone should rise up and bring to life their teachings once more, quickly found themselves shunned by both fellow students and educators.

"My friends are not Death Eaters," She commented quietly, pulling her tiny, white fur ball of a kitten out of her pocket and nuzzling it. Meskenet was the offspring of the family cat. She'd been so tiny, so out of place with her darker siblings that Disir's soft side won, bidding the girl to take the tiny mewing dust bunny as a pet. The others of the litter had been sold or given away as presents.

Disir thought that perhaps Meskenet was part kneazle-the kitten was still small enough to fit into the deep pockets of the girl's smock-like dress without weighing it down and was uncannily cautious. Sol frowned. "If your friends aren't Death Eaters then why do they go around pretending to be? Regan heard that asshole Sine go off about using Muggles like House Elves last term."

How annoying her brother could be, trying to start a argument in the middle of everyone's way.

"Sine's just got a stupid sense of humor," Disir defended, "And I've heard Regan say a few things too, if you want to go on like that."

The twins stared at each other with evident dislike on their faces, neither moving though the compartments were quickly filling up.

How they had come to be this, Disir didn't know. They used to be close when they were little. They'd shared everything. But as soon as the Sorting of their first year had come around, everything changed. Disir went to the applauding Slytherin table while Sol reluctantly went to the Gryffindor's, watching as Dizzy drifted away from him.

Since then Sol acted like it'd been her fault that they had grown apart. He was disgusted that she'd been Sorted into Slytherin and seemed to believe that there was some hidden evil inside of her that had earned her a place in "that House". It was worse when he became apart of the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He soon became a target for the sport lovers of her house and felt that Disir was behind it (even though she never was, thank-you-very-much).

Disir, for her part, now saw a very different brother to the one she'd grown up with. Sol became dismissive of her, throwing himself into loud, noisy, arrogant friends. When he joined the Quidditch team in third year he became somewhat of a superstar within the Gryffindor house. Girls cooed after him, finding his dark eyes and hair, along with a helping of deep dimples appealing, even without the spectacular (rather, showoff) saves he performed as Keeper. It didn't help that Sol topped DADA either. He was seen, only second to Harry Potter, as the quintessential Gryffindor hero.

They had ignored the other's existence for a while, then half-way through first year Sol made the mistake of accidentally tripping his sister and causing her to ruin most of her spellbooks with a smashed ink bottle. Since then they declared a war.

Now they were in their seventh year. Sol had been Captain of the Quidditch team for two years now while Disir had just gotten the pleasure of being promoted from prefect to Head Girl. Their parents, both being fairly easy going (despite a younger Sol's Christmas outburst that they'd disown her if she didn't swap to Gryffindor _immediately_!), were proud of her. Sol's talents were very much in-you-face ones. Disir's, like being clever with Charms and Potions, were softer ones, quietly growing.

"Such a clever girl!" Their mother had exclaimed. "And you've received such glowing reports from your teachers! I ran into Professor Kaden the other day. She said she'd never seen such a way with potions before!"

Disir had blushed as her mother continued gushing, while her father turned to Sol and said, "I guess that means you'll be going to your sister for help now, doesn't it Solly?"

"Solly" was leaning against the frame of the doorway, watching the scene impassively. "No," He answered, not taking his eyes off Disir, who was now glaring at him. "I don't need help from a Death Eater."

Their mother drew in her breath sharply while their father ordered, "Don't call your sister a Death Eater, young man! You have no idea the pain that those monsters inflicted-your sister is nothing, nothing like that, no matter what House she'd been sorted into!"

Sol rolled his eyes, muttering a very insincere apology while Disir smirked smugly. He was always stupid enough to make himself look like the bad guy in their fights. Disir was much more subtle at getting back at him, an art that sadly didn't seem to be within the comprehension of a Gryffindor. Hexed Quidditch robes, for example. Spreading rumors among his flighty, twit-filled fan base about a hideous fungi hiding beneath covering charms and clothes.

Remembering the last one Disir grinned, then hid it in Meskenet's soft fur as Sol narrowed his eyes at her. She knew that he knew _exactly_ what she was thinking. But it'd been so funny-Victoire Weasley, a Seventh year from last term and Sol's crush, wouldn't go near him afterwards, saying she didn't want to catch anything in case her boyfriend, Teddy someone, wouldn't want to kiss her anymore.

Speaking of someones, one of them bumped into Disir and she turned around to find Regan Bones behind her, smiling slightly. "Hey Dizzy" He greeted, brown hair flopping into his blue eyes.

"Get lost" Disir said, moving away from him. That asshole Sol was laughing, finding his friend's teasing amusing. No one had called her Dizzy for years. Diz sometimes, but never Dizzy. Sol must have been spreading stupid childhood stories about them around in an attempt to embarrass her.

Regan looked a little crestfallen, but Disir ignored it, trying to get past her brother who was, unfortunately, blocking her way to the carriage that she was meant to meet the Head Boy and the prefects in.

"Sol, move!" She commanded. Meskenet meowed, almost as though she too was telling Sol to get out of their way.

He didn't, however. The pair of them clashed eyes again and only after a few moments of an invisible standoff did Sol finally move aside so that Disir could squeeze past him. His eyes followed her as she made her way down the rocking train, her long, dark, curling hair almost flowing out behind her in some crazy enchanted way.

"-she'll ever believe me?"

Regan's voice, suddenly loud, broke Sol out of his trace. He looked to his friend, blinking. "What was that?"

Regan just shook his head, keeping his eyes down. "Nothing." Then he brightened, grinning impishly. "How was your summer? What the bloody hell did you get up to?"

Giving a grin brighter than Regan's own, Sol said. "Oh, nothing. I just got myself the Windflare."

Regan looked stunned. "You're kidding! Holy shit, have you tried it out? They weren't meant to be out for ages... can it actually outstrip the Firebolt XII?"

With both boys now completely submerged in the Windflare's latest features and what an advantage it should be over the other teams, they left to find their friends.


	2. Chapter II Atrum Cruor

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his wonderful world belong to J K Rowling. Not me. Though I wish it did.

AN: Thanks to **JacintaMarina** for her helpful advice. I hope it's tidier/smoother/better this time around.

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_Inconcessus_

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Chapter II

Atrum Cruor

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The Great Hall, flickering with the light of hundreds and thousands of candles, was teeming with the noise of students all clamoring to talk about their summer.

Sol, who had entered it with his laughing friends, spied a head of messy black hair in front of him about to throw a very heavy dungbomb at a pack of giggling second year Ravenclaw girls. _That little bastard..._

"OI!" Sol bellowed. "JAMES YOU GIT, I CAN SEE YOU!"

The eldest Potter boy, clearly startled, almost dropped his muck filled ammunition which prompted a nearby Hufflepuff girl to cast a knee-jerk _Wingardium Leviosa._ The boy, James, released it carefully as it became weightless and watched in appreciation as the dungbomb floated in mid-air.

"Nice," He said, pushing back his messy black hair and smirking at the Hufflepuff girl suggestively. "I can't pronounce it properly to get it to work for me." Furtively he glanced around him, checking for any warning signs of possible punishment. Sol too looked, surprised that none of the teachers had witnessed the scene.

The girl that'd cast the spell caught Sol's eye. She was fairly pretty, with creamy skin and light blonde hair. She saw him looking and smiled; slyly.

Sol recognized the challenge and felt his best grin climb onto his face. "Nice charm" He complimented.

"Thanks" Said the girl. Both of their friends (and the people around them, including that little sneak James) were moving off to the various House tables. Sol and the Hufflepuff girl, however, stayed by the doors.

There didn't seem to be much to say. "I'm Sol" He offered.

The girl looked up at him through her lashes. "I know. I'm Jezebel Smith."

"Right, right. We used to share Herbology. I don't take it anymore but"

"Mmm." Jezebel just nodded, her (very blue) eyes regarding Sol with a mixture of open flirtatiousness and curiosity.

This is a very new experience for Solace. He normally didn't have to do much, just stand there and grin stupidly as who ever he was after would do all the talking for him. It struck him that Jezebel might consider his incomplete sentences and half-hearted memories as rather dimwitted. Perhaps even shallow.

Before he could rectify this, however, a stout looking girl called out crossly to Jezebel. "Jezzy! Hurry up!"

She turned to him and gave him an apologetic, dazzling smile before dashing off and leaving Sol feeling incredibly idiotic, like he'd just been given a strong blast of a Confundus Charm.

-

"I don't know why you had to drag me down here _now_ of all times, Sine. I'm hungry and wanted to eat."

Sine Marillier didn't breath a word, just smirked and continued to walk further down into the dungeons. For sure Disir thought that he was taking her to their common room, but he went past it, leading the girl down even further than she had cared to go before.

"What is it?" Disir asked. She wasn't curious or afraid of the damp darkness but she _was_ slightly annoyed. The Welcome Feast always held her favorites, like the chocolate éclairs or treacle tart. She had a very big sweet tooth that, if not satisfied, could trigger her very big temper.

Shaking his head Sine kept going until they reached the end of their pathway. A solid brick wall loomed up in front of them, a pitifully tiny candle burning weakly in the candle holder attached to the wall.

Disir arched an elegant eyebrow. Was he _serious_? "You wanted to show me a wall?" Sine didn't answer, only continued to smirk at her. Why the hell was he looking so pleased with himself? "Congratulations." She said sourly, "I've never seen one of_ those _before."

She spun around only to start when she came face to face with a very serious Ember Zabini, a girl in both Disir's House and year. She was very beautiful; black with slanting eyes and long inky hair that she kept up in a severely pulled back ponytail. Ember was also very haughty, and easily made jealous. Why she hated Disir, the girl didn't know. But even though they shared a dorm room Disir tried to stay out of her way. Ember, apart from taking after her good looking father and famously beautiful grandmother, was also well accomplished with nasty little hexes.

"I don't know why you had to include her," The black girl remarked, tossing her hair so that her ponytail was cascading over her shoulder. Narrowing her eyes she continued, "She's the Head Girl, she's likely to dob us all to McGonagall after you show her."

"She won't." Finally Sine spoke, his words coming out in a lazy, self-assured drawl. "And besides, we need her."

Her temper flaring, Disir hissed, "And pray tell, what do you need _her _for?"

Sine's smirk deepened. She was succeeding only in amusing him, bastard.

Sine was tall, slender and pale, as though he didn't see the sun much. Black hair cut savagely short hid nothing about his thin face. His eyes-an eerie, unnatural gray-flickered out from underneath heavy, dominating eyebrows, almost like silver pools in the dim lighting of the corridor's end. A thin, curling mouth was connected from the heart of his lips to his nose with a skinny scar. He wasn't unattractive, no. But his careless attitude and famous laziness had hardly endeared him to Disir.

It seemed that Ember was not impressed much either. "Tell her!" She snapped, pulling out her wand. "Either let her know, Marillier, or get rid of her!"

If Sine had been anyone else, Disir would of sworn he pouted as he straightened himself. "Fine, fine..." He sighed dramatically and dusted off his sleeves. It was a very uncharacteristic thing for him to do-coming to class with his tie undone and his robes wrinkled was a trademark for him. Suddenly his eyes shifted up, almost gleaming white as he smirked at Disir. Slowly, deliberately so, he began to roll up his right sleeve.

There. It seemed almost burned into his wrist, black and ugly.

"What the...?" Trailing off, Disir kept her eyes on Sine's tattoo. Behind her she could hear Ember shuffle her feet, impatient, but she ignored her. "Is this way you brought me down here?" She asked, looking and meeting with Sine's eyes.

He nodded. "No portraits, no armor."

"No risk of being seen." Ember, her voice sulky.

Taking Sine's wrist, Disir pulled it closer, squinting at it in order to make it out more clearly in the dark.

It wasn't so doubtful looking that it would cause trouble if seen. A knife stood out in front of a black crescent moon, plain and unadorned while the moon was drawn so that it created a dome over the blade of the weapon. In curving letters atop of the hill of the tattoo were the words _Atrum Cruor_.

"Atrum cruor..." Disir repeated, testing the words carefully. She frowned. She knew this.

"Dark Blood." It wasn't Sine who answered but Ember, coming in closer so that the three of them created a triangle. Her eyes settled on Sine's face, something hungry lurking underneath her icy beauty.

"Dark Blood?"

With a dismissive flick Sine claimed his wrist back, his sleeve falling over it and covering his marking. "It's the name of the New Order." He explained, leaning against the wall. "We're going to start it here, at school."

The New Order... Ember had turned away from Sine and was now glaring at Disir, silently daring her to challenge his words.

"Would this be a way for you to start your enslaving of Muggles?"

Sine's smirk grew, showing his teeth. "Not quite yet." He murmured. "It focuses on the Dark Arts and how we as students can benefit from learning them, how we should realize that as wizards we're _meant_ to be different from the Muggles. None of this pansy hand-holding crap they're trying to encourage. I don't believe that we have anything to gain from that."

Speaking carefully, Disir asked, "You do realize that I'm half blood, right?"

Sine shrugged while Ember gave off a tiny, disapproving noise. "So? The Dark Lord was as well. Besides, you're missing the point."

"How's that?"

Gray eyes narrowed at her. Clearly, he thought that she was only asking these questions to annoy him. "I'm not talking about a after-school Mudblood hunting club, I'm talking about a movement. There's no point in being a member of society if we aren't free to openly say our beliefs without getting rained on by Aurors. Starting it here, at Hogwarts, just gives us a chance to kick start it quietly, get some power before the big wands are pulled out."

Disir thought of her parents. Her smiling mum, a pureblood, working as a Healer at St. Mungos. Her dad, a muggle born, living out his wildest dreams working in the Diagon Ally branch of Honeydukes.

_He's probably the reason I have that sweet tooth,_ she mused. "This isn't anti-Muggle?"

A deepened smirk. _Not quiet yet_...

The Corrigan children had never met their Grandparents on their father's side. They'd been devoutly religious, and extremely unnerved with their son's abilities. When the War came they severed all ties with him, afraid-a blow, yes, but he'd already moved out by then with the twins' mother. Since then neither side had anything to do with the other.

Muggles were intolerant. Why shouldn't they be ignored?

Slowly, feeling that she may come to regret her words Disir asked, "What did you want me for, exactly?"

-

Sol had almost forgotten Regan's odd behavior on the train until his friend asked, "Hey, where's your sister?"

Looking up from his roast, Sol frowned. "I don't bloody know. Hexing first years? Who cares?"

Regan didn't respond, but kept playing with his meal. Finally, after a few minutes his hesitant voice spoke up again. "Why do you... would you care if... I mean-I'd really like to..."

The fork that Sol had been hiding dropped to the table. "What?" He asked, suddenly suspicious of his friend's mooning. "What the hell are you going on about?"

"He likes-" Durden, another of Sol's inner circle that'd been grinning like crazy when Regan had started talking was quickly silenced by a glare from the very same boy.

A pause. Both Regan and Durden could almost feel Sol's rage building. "And what exactly does he like, Durden?"

Durden shrugged, his white teeth flashing against his dark skin as he tried to grin lightheartedly. "I dunno. The potatoes? I was just having fun mate. Nothing to get worked up about"

Sol turned to Regan who's ears were turning pink. "Why do you have to get so angry about it?" He asked quietly, meeting Sol's eyes. "Your sister isn't bad, she isn't evil. She's not some random Slytherin, she's your family. Your twin sister. If anyone even tries to bring her up, you either shut down or go mental about it. Remember when Fatima Vector asked you about her? God, Sol, you almost ate her alive. Maia told me later that Fatima was so shocked she couldn't go to Muggle Studies 'cos she was crying so hard."

Sol felt a pang of guilt remembering Fatima. They'd been in Transfiguration when Fatima, a girl of their year and house, came up to Sol surprised to have learnt that he had a twin. He supposed that he hadn't handled it well, if she had cried afterwards. She'd just started asking all these questions about Disir... if they had fun teasing each other about the Quidditch Cup, about House Points, if they saw much of each other... Sol just exploded, saying-well, yelling really-that they didn't see each other at all, that they hated one another that she was a complete and utter traitor...

Yeah, he definitely hadn't handled it well at _all_.

"I just don't like talking about it, okay?" His voice was gruff as he busied himself in his meal once more. Regan and Durden gave each other significant looks but neither pursued the topic, perhaps sensing that their friend had closed down for now.

_Besides_, Sol thought with a sudden viscousness, glaring at Regan. _Why the hell does_ he _care about Diz anyways_?

It wasn't until he turned in pretense of looking for Jezebel did Sol realize that Disir wasn't at her table. Neither, he darkly noted, was that bastard Sine.

He sat through dessert silently, barely touching the slice of treacle tart in front of him. Disir and Sine never came to the table, and only appeared at the end of the meal as everyone was moving off to their dorms. Something ugly flared through Sol as he watched Disir talk with a strikingly beautiful black girl. Without thinking, Sol marched up to them, growling at Disir, "We need to talk!" before taking a hold of her arm and yanking her away from the cold gaze of her friend.


End file.
